An Instrument to Play Upon
by Fluro-Green Skittles
Summary: What if Amanda hadn't turned down Caroline's offer when she confessed to being attracted to other women? Just a smutty one-shot about how that scene could have turned out. Amanda Price/Caroline Bingley, so obviously warning for F/F


**All dialogue is taken directly from the episode that this scene is derived from. Do not read if you're a kid or otherwise opposed to F/F smut. Although I have written femslash before I've always skipped over sex scenes, so please tell me if this is terrible because it's my first time writing something like this...**

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><p>'Look at me, I'm going'<p>

She was always so blunt, so harsh, always getting straight to the point and spitting her words as though they might cause me pain. I suppos I gave her reason to, and I wasn't sorry, but I'd come into this room with an objective and wasn't leaving until it had been met. I looked up at her, my fingers busying themselves, playing with my gloves, but my voice steady despite the nerves.

'I do look at you Miss Price.'

I'd though it clear in my tone, but she hadn't caught on. This girl, who seemed to believe she knew everything, couldn't feel the heat of my stare, read the meaning between my words. She was too caught up in her own ideals, launching into yet another rant about how our way was the wrong way.

'You people!' She exclaimed, 'If just one of you said or did something you acctually meant that had any kind of emotional integrity the rest of you would die of fright.'

It was at times like these that I realised most strongly why I was attracted to her. And I was- attracted to her, that is. This wasn't only because she was a woman and far exceeded Mr Darcy in all respects that any woman did. There was something about Miss Price that intrigued me, that made me want to hear more of what she had to say but even more so made me want to cut her off with a kiss and feel her respond. She wasn't like the simpering, fanning women that were so common around here. She was better.

'You're staring at me Caroline, it's a bit freaky...'

I hadn't even noticed that I'd been staring, but now that she'd pointed it out there was no use in trying to hide it. I tried to convey my desire with my eyes alone and let a little smile play across my lips. I noticed the realisation dawn on her face even before her words reached my ears.

'Good grief!'

'Charles told me your secret.' I explained, walking slowly closer, 'It is my secret too. I _shall_ "get my paws on Darcy" and I shall marry him, because it is correct, and necessary and expected by everybody including God, but the physical society of men is something I have never sought. I shall endure it with Darcy because endurance is the speciality of our sex, but the poetry of Sappho is the only music that shall ever touch my heart. Though I have yet to play upon the... um... instrument myself. I wanted you to know this.'

I was so close to her now and allowed myself to reach out and graze my fingers across her lips, which were slightly open in shock and just begging for me to catch them between my own. I gave her a chance to refuse though, as any well-mannered lady would, tactfully suggesting 'A little sisterly communion, before you scuttle back to Hammersmith.'

I left her a few seconds more to leave, to push me away, to say something- anything at all. She remained still and silent, her eyes locked on my face, and I finally angled my head a little, drew closer still and kissed her.

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><p>Just like that, Caroline removed her fingers from my lips and pressed her mouth to mine. It took me a second for my mind to catch up with my body and by the time I realised that I should be pushing her away I was already moving closer and kissing her back. Her mouth was warm and soft tasted nice, which was rare for the era- I guess she planned this well. Her enthusiasm was one I hadn't been met with for a while and called to be matched.<p>

It was an almost automatic reaction, I supposed. I'd been living with Michael for so long I'd almost forgotten what it was like to kiss another woman. That's not to say that this was new to me. When I had told Bingley that I was drawn to other women there was a reason that that was the first excuse that popped into my mind- it was true. Granted, I'd left out the part about my also being attracted to men, but that would have been unnecessary and counterproductive. Still, it was nice to feel someone soft and petite pressed up against me and, although I'd been so set on the renowned Fitzwilliam Darcy and never would have thought that Caroline could be gay and so hadn't given her much thought prior to this moment, it was impossible to deny that she was very good looking.

Her tongue breached my lips and if I hadn't been so distracted by it all I might have laughed. I couldn't help but remember Bingley's reaction when I had done the same to him and wondered if this too was a secret he had shared with his dear sister. Without really thinking about it my hand slipped into her hair and loosened the pins attaching her hat until it fell to the ground. I then started to work on the jungle of clips before giving up when it was half down. My mind was racing and her pupils were blown, her gaze still caught in mine, and right then it all seemed perfect.

For a moment I was caught up in the heat of lips moulding to mine, her tongue mapping my mouth, the way her hair felt twined around my fingers and the skin on the back of her neck seemed to burn my cold palms. I could feel her breasts pressed tightly against my own, both of us moving only closer, trying to fit into less space than was physically possible and my mind was light with the heady, heavy lust of it all, as though if she weren't holding me down I might float away. It was easy to forget that this was all a game, to let myself believe that maybe this was the real solution, that I could convince her like this to stay away from Darcy and that Elizabeth would come back after all and I would run away with Caroline, maybe that was how the story was supposed to go. For a moment, as I grew dizzy trying to memorise the taste of her, as her right hand squeezed between us to play across my stomach through the fabric of my dress, it was easy to forget the difference between lust and love.

In that instant, I forgot my hate for Caroline. It's easy not to hate someone who smells so good and who kisses with a genuine, fumbling innocence but still seems to know just where to touch you to make heat pool in your stomach. My legs were getting a little weak but it was her, not me, who steered us towards the bed. I followed blindly and almost believed that all this made sense, that all of her sneaky, spiteful behaviours and snarky remarks could be explained by this. Maybe they could, but for a minute I wondered if that changed everything. Of course it didnt. She was still a conniving bitch, regardless of the repressive society that had turned her into one, and this wasn't going to make up for the way she had acted, and would certainly continue to act. We weren't suddenly going to marry and skip off into the sunset, but in that moment, as she bent to nibble at my neck, I allowed myself not to care.

Her mouth moved against my skin ravenously, a little tooth and a little tongue intrupting her lips from time to time. She bit a little too hard, her hands coming up to my chest and groping without delicacy, and it really struck me that she had never done this before, probably wasn't even fully aware how this was done. Not only that, but she would likely not find another chance to do this again. She'd be stuck with a husband someday and so I had to make this good for her, give her something to remember.

That in mind I didn't hold back my little gasps as she kissed my neck and pulled undone the buttons on the front of my dress, let a sound escape me as her palms ran across my bare skin- something between a moan and a sigh. This seemed only to fuel her urgency and she was quick to divest me entirely of my dress, leaving me in only the host of underclothes to which I was slowly becoming accustomed. I tried to return the favour, but her dress was a complicated combination of buttons and clasps that I couldn't seem to figure out and my fumblings achieved little to rectify the situation.

Huffing a little in annoyance, as though the servants had brought out the dinner five minutes after they were supposed to or handed her gloves that didn't match the hat she planned to wear, she stood and removed the clothing herself. I let myself watch unashamedly as she revealed each new piece of skin, her dress pooling to the floor as she reached behind herself to untie her corset. She didn't stop like I expected her to but kept right on undressing until no fabric was touching her skin and then stood before me, almost passable for someone from the twenty-first century without the period costume, and I couldn't help but stare.

She really was beautiful, her lips red and wet from kissing me, her eyes dark and shining, her hair falling messily by her shoulders and her skin, smooth and pale and completely uncovered, drawn over the subtle curves of her lovely form. She was biting her lip, as thought confused about what she should do next. I wriggled quickly out of my own underthings, never taking my eyes off of her, and wordlessly beckoned her over.

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><p>She was naked now and I stood by her, my clothes around my ankles, feeling a little lost. I wanted this, I was more sure of that than I had ever been of anything until that moment. More than I knew that the sun shall rise each morning, that the garden will flower in spring, that money will always mean more to success than character ever could, I knew that I wanted this. I wanted to be intimate with her, as a husband with his wife, wanted to see her head thrown back in pleasure and to let her make me feel things that I had not yet felt, that I didn't know one could feel. I'd fantasised about this before, run through scenarios over and over in my head, but I rarely got beyond this point. To be honest I didn't quite know where to go from here.<p>

She lay on the bed almost gracefully, looking perfect in her nudity. It was hard to beleive that this was the same woman, the woman who could barely walk without stumbling, speak without causing disaster or enter a room without disrupting all of its occupants. Yet there she was, that strange and clumsy woman, reclined amongst the sheets as though she were crafted only to lie on that bed and have me look upon her. She gave my eyes barely the time to learn the curve of her breasts or my brain the chance to question the missing hair that ought to be growing beneath her stomach before she was calling me over with a wave of her hand.

I lowered myself onto her, paying little attention to the task of keeping most of my weight of her and instead settling back into my new, delicious addition of touching her tongue with my own. I let our bodies mould together, skin touching skin everywhere, entwining our legs and noticing a wetness against my thigh where it settled between hers. She groaned and pulled me closer by the hair with one hand as the other glided down my back, as though if she pulled us tightly enough together we would weld into one being (perhaps then we could both marry Darcy). Everything in me was hot and pulsing, like a thousand candles or the force that makes wool stand on end if you rub it, and I thought that even if this was all there was it was worth it. For this, just this once, I would endure a hundred Darcys.

Then she was turning us, pressing down against me in the most wonderful way and kissing me senseless before moving downwards, kissing and licking my jaw, my neck, my collar bones, my sternum. She stopped a minute in her decent to mouth at my breasts, making me shiver as though in a dream, and then continued to place little kisses across my stomach, my hipbones, the insides of my thighs...

As her tongue had surprised my brother by invading his mouth, which he had recounted to me with scandalised awe, it now surprised me by placing itself in a very different location. I didn't know exactly what she was doing, was certain that it wasn't something I would be able to replicate, but whatever it was it was wonderful. The sudden pleasure sent ripples up my spine and down to curl my toes- a hot, slow burn like someone struck by lightning, her mouth wet and endless and moving almost too quickly for me to follow. Then her tongue was finally inside me and I couldn't help the sounds that escaped my lips, the almost incoherent pleas, the way my fist clasped her hair and pulled her closer still- forgetting her need to breath, her name, her existence as a human being. Anything to chase the way that felt.

My head lolled back, my back arching off the bed almost unbidden, my eyes falling shut. Stars behind my eyelids, a muffled cry that I almost failed to stifle, a minute to catch my breath and she was again beside me, her tongue sweeping across her lips, her breathing almost as laboured as my own. I put my arm around her back and held her against me for a moment, resting my forehead against hers. Then, and I can't say why I did it because it is a phenomenon that for me is rarely so natural, I began to laugh.

I laughed like a child who knows a secret and kissed her again and basked in the knowledge that I was no longer the innocent maid of a wife that Darcy was expecting. Then I slid my hand down her back, moved it to her front and crept down to search for that damp heat that proved her desire to equal my own. I wasn't too sure what I was doing, but I let a finger explore her, rub against her and she sighed in a way that suggested I was doing something right.

Then she seemed to catch herself, blinking as though waking from a dream and realising with a kind of belated surprise where she was and what we were doing. It was like I had flicked an invisible switch and she returned to the indisputable knowledge that she shouldn't be here. Whether it was because I was a girl, because she never liked me, because she felt otherwise committed to someone or because she just wasn't comfortable taking things this far I don't know, but something had her shoving my hand out from between her legs and rolling away from me.

She stood and dressed in silence and I did the same. It wasn't in silence that we left it though, because I do not believe silence is a word of which Miss Price has ever been properly taught the meaning. As I was re-fastening my hat and pulling on my gloves she gathered up the courage to speak to me, angrily and almost as though nothing had ever passed between us. Her words were curious and unexpected, still on about her bizarre ideas of the way things should have been.

'You don't get to marry Darcy.'

She glared at me as I went to leave, but I turned upon reaching the door and looked over her one last time.

'Do I not?' I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Then things went back to the way they always had been and the stolen moment was lost in the sound of the door closing behind me. Something had changed though because upon entry I had been but a child begging for knowledge and now I was a woman. I knew how to play the piano, the harp, how to sing, but now I had a new instrument in my repertoire. The instrument of Sappho herself. I could play Miss Price.

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><p><strong>Reviews are nice :)<strong>


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